Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1887-07-16
A FRONTIER SKETCH.
By THOMAS COLQUITT.
CHAPTER L

CHAPTER
This story was told to the writer beside
q miners camp fire in Southern Arizona,
one hot and sleepless night last summer,
by an ancient mariner OF those western
1ilds who, Judging from his personal APP
pearance, was probably out there some
where prospecting when the country was
created.
Cottonwood was small town Of half a
dozen log and adobe houses on the ba k
of the San Juan. There were but two
stores in the place, and their principal
stock in trade consisted OF whisky, ire
arms, and provisions, in the order named
Their customers were miners, hunters and
6appers, and Indians.
There is q great difference, which you
cannot understand, between the Cottonwood
of that day and the prosperous, rustling city
which now stands upon the same spot. Yet
only few years have passed it seems
when come to look back; only few years,
but they have been long, long wasted years
for me, as / have plodded my way through
life alone. once planned it out differ
-ent; for few short months I was happy
in the love of the fairest girl that ever trod
this earth.
Twill commence at the first and tell my
story properly.
Twas an orphan. My father. one Of the
first white men who ever penetrated this
region, had died when was but few
months old. My mother soon followed
him, and / was left TO the tender mercies
of Mr.. Charner. never knew anything
concerning my parents people.
When / was fourteen years OF age rail-
road was built to Cottonwood. After the
road came the inevitable newspaper, and
the Ishmaeltte was established. Through
bovish curiosity visited the printing Office.
The editor took kindly interest in me
yed. gave me work on the paper: He was
this country. He was always very kind
work in the Office, as I grew able, includ-
ing the heavy press work Of the entire
edition of fifteen quires. One day, how
ever, in a thoughtless moment he CHANGED
to contradict Diego Dan as to the quality
Of pint Of whisky. Dan started grave
yard with the editor, and the paper passed
into other and more compliant hands.
Diego Dan was the whitest man that ever
lived. He seemed to consider himself in
honor bound to provide for my future, after
he had SO summary removed my late en-
ployer, so he administered on the editors
estate and gave me the Office. He often
asked me to join him in excursions up the
river or out on the plains. I remained in
the Office of the Ishmaelite for four years,
closely at work, when one summer de-
cided to take Q months recreation with
Dan. He was good fellow, as I have
said, we'll educated, handsome, and always
dressed we'll. believed him then to be
dandy sort of hunter and trapper; but
came to know afterward that, when out on
the plains, he often compelled overland
gold to pay heavy toll for crossing
the divide. But he was always good to
me, and it was none of my business. He
was the best shot in all that country, where
everyone shot we'll, and he could see an
object farther away than any person ever
knew. One laughable peculiarly in his
craftsmanship was that, at long range, he
always shot Indians in the legs. Many
he did it on purpose, but he
explained the matter to me in confidence.
I was then very sorry that he had not
taken long range shot at my friend, the
editor.
We started on our voyage up the river
early one morning in July. Against the
current our progress could not, Of course,
be very rapid; we made fairly good time,
however, and were soon in the midst of
some magnificent scenery. Diego Dan was /,
quite an artist with the pencil, as well as
the pistol, and readily recognized sew
eral pretty bits of scenery along the river
from sketches he had made on previous
voyages.
We camped the first night about fifty
miles above Cottonwood, very tired after
days hard rowing. Directly after supper
Dan rolled himself up IN blanket, and
was asleep long before closed my eyes
upon the bright stars glittering above me.
The second evening we reached the ruins
OF an old log house-we were now among
the Arizona pine forests-on the river bank.
The structure had originally contained sev-
eral rooms, but of these one alone was
standing, and it offered but slight protec-
ton IN case there should be storm during
the night.
@Do you know that we are in haunted
house2" said Dan to me that night as We sat
at supper in the little room.
mo; do your"
att is said to be, was the reply by which
he evaded direct opinion.
why sol" asked, greatly interested.
@You remember hearing of old man Bar
ton. who was murdered up here, with his |
entire family, some three years ago?"
II never heard the particulars Of the at |
fair"
WELL" Dan continued reluctantly,
though l could not then understand why |
he should dislike to tell the story, Barton |
lived here, and / often stopped over for |
several days at time with the old fellow.
Sometimes he would join us in trip out on |
the plains and-but III tell you that an
other time. He vas an eccentric man, as
you Will conclude, or he never would have |
settled up here SO far from civilization
He possessed great deal of money, or
or, at least, l always considered him
wealthy man.
sOne day VIII lie intoxicated down at Cot |
he shot an Indian. Their law is,
you know, life Tor life, and but for the in
reference of myself and others it would |
have been executed there q once Tie